icies for
other purpose than politely to praise them."

"You can leave me ignorant if you wish," I said with a touch of chill.
This Tatho seemed to be different from the Tatho I had known at home,
Tatho my workmate, Tatho who had read with me in the College of Priests,
who had run with me in many a furious charge, who had laboured with me
so heavily that the peoples under us might prosper. But he was quick
enough to see my change of tone.

"You force me back to my old self," he said with a half smile, "though
it is hard enough to forget the caution one has learned during the last
twenty years, even when speaking with you. Still, whatever may have
happened to the rest of us, it is clear to see that you at least have
not changed, and, old friend, I am ready to trust you with my life if
you ask it. In fact, you do ask me that very thing when you tell me to
speak all I know of Phorenice."

I nodded. This was more like the old times, when there was full
confidence between us. "The Gods will it now that I return to Atlantis,"
I said, "and what happens after that the Gods alone know. But it would
be of service to me if I could land on her shores with some knowledge of
this Phorenice, for at present I am as ignorant concerning her as some
savage from Europe or mid-Africa."

"What would you have me tell?"

"Tell all. I know only that she, a woman, reigns, whereby the ancient
law of the land, a man should rule; that she is not even of the Priestly
Clan from which the law says all rulers must be drawn; and that, from
what you say, she has caused the throne to totter. The throne was as
firm as the everlasting hills in the old King's day, Tatho."

"History has moved with pace since then, and Phorenice has spurred it.
You know her origin?"

"I know only the exact little I have told you."

"She was a swineherd's daughter from the mountains, though this is never
even whispered now, as she has declared herself to be a daughter of the
Gods, with a miraculous birth and upbringing. As she has decreed it a
sacrilege to question this parentage, and has ordered to be burnt all
those that seem to recollect her more earthly origin, the fable passes
current for truth. You see the faith I put in you, Deucalion, by telling
you what you wish to learn."

"There has always been trust between us."

"I know; but this habit of suspicion is hard to cast off, even with you.
However, let me put your good faith between me and the torture further